


Personality Quirks

by argylsocks



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Gen, Hobbies, falling, heights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argylsocks/pseuds/argylsocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has something that sets them apart from the rest. Even if they can't explain it, it's something that just works when everything else doesn't.</p><p>A look at the hobbies of the Bat Family and what it means to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personality Quirks

**Author's Note:**

> So...I saw a picture of Dick falling and wanted to write. (Will link once I figure out how to do that.)
> 
> Hopefully, I'll be able to expand this into the rest of the Batfam; even more hopefully, it'll be accurate since this is the first time I've worked with them and I've been having trouble tracking down comics for them.

Dick likes falling.

The sensation of gravity pulling downwards, not the abrupt stop that usually follows.

If anyone asked, he wouldn't admit it to them, but sometimes he'll suggest going out on patrol just to fall and flit in the small pockets of air between the steel-and-glass-and-stone giants that are equally likely to kill him just as much as the  steel-and-asphalt-and-concrete plains below. All it would take is a small mistake--a misplaced step, an unbalanced dismount, an ill-timed swing...

 

He supposes he would know what could make you alive in the air and dead on the ground better than anyone.

 

When he was Robin, his mom's Robin, he wanted to be in the air more than anything. To be on top, at the zenith of his ascent to the vertex of the tent, and see the rings below.

 

When he was Robin, Bruce's Robin, he wanted to stay on the ground more than anything. To stay rooted, anchored to the path that Batman gave him, where he could see clearly what traps and pitfalls any higher aspirations of revenge would lead him.

 

But he is not Robin anymore, neither Bruce's nor the Flying Graysons'.

 

He's Nightwing, and right now, he wants to stay in the middle, gliding between both extremes in a free fall that should end darkly. The adrenaline pumps through him as he stares at the quickly approaching ground, orange sunset light nearly blinding him and the beat of wings deafening as birds startle. The high-rises and streets and cars and noise of Blüdhaven fade until it's just the singular point below him and the rush of air as he pierces through it.

 

No matter how often he does this, it's that familiar feeling--the one where his stomach simultaneously becomes a hard, uncomfortable weight in his center and loosens to spread throughout his body--that has him addicted to falling.

 

(It helps him remember. It helps him forget. He's not sure, so he just settles on the fact that it helps him not think.)

 

The snap-and-whoosh of the grapnel hook in his wristband releases with a soft tap; his body jerks at the sudden change and he shifts from a straight arrow to a gently arced curve as he swings. The suit creaks lowly with the strain and the wind gusts harshly; his soft hair has become whiplashes against his face, yet he can't stop smiling.


End file.
